


Even Starfleet Crews Need a Break

by TARDISTraveller42



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, fun on the bridge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 07:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21388033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TARDISTraveller42/pseuds/TARDISTraveller42
Summary: While the Enterprise sails them smoothly toward their next mission, Kirk allows a little more freedom on the bridge. But is a break ever actually relaxing with this crew?
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Spock
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Even Starfleet Crews Need a Break

"I don't normally allow this," Jim stated, all stiff lips and stern eyebrows. A twinkle of light danced in his eye. "But just this once..."

Chekov beamed.

"I vill be right back, Keptin. With enough for everybody!"

It was rare for the bridge crew to have a real day off. Missions were long and Starfleet often demanded constant status reports. But every once in a way, when the ship was in between the correctly aligned stars, Jim let his crew kick back and be human. 

God knew they needed it; Jim especially. It had been a stressful few weeks. Trouble seemed to loom over their ship like a bad omen in an old earth fairytale. So he, and Starfleet if they ever found out, could forgive his crew for celebrating merely being alive.

Plus, the kid had promised some pretty good rum for everyone on the bridge and Jim Kirk was not in the business of refusing a party. And so ten minutes later, everyone had a drink and a smile. 

Well, almost everyone, at least.

Jim turned his rosy, humored expression over to Spock, who was still bent over his scanner. Still laughing at one of Chekov's 'Russian history lessons', Jim ran his eye from his first officer's boots up to his perfectly neat black hair. Not a hair nor toe out of line.

"Not joining us, Mr. Spock?" He asked, taking another swig from his glass. 

"There are a few strange readings from yesterday that still require investigation. I do not want to mar my judgment until after I have completed my survey," said Spock, with all of his usual calm collectedness.

Jim shrugged. If Spock didn't want to drink, he didn't want to drink. Hell, he was probably right not to. Chekov's rum was a bit more than Jim was used to, even if he wouldn't admit that to anyone. The kid could certainly drink.

"Mr. Chekov, how long have you been holding onto this stuff?"

Chekov took a big drink from his glass and then beamed up at his captain.

"I bought it just before we set off. I wanted to save it, but I figured: life is short."

Chekov gestured with the almost-empty bottle of rum, and then poured himself another glass. He looked so happy, it was hard to believe all the things the poor kid had already been through on this 5 year mission.

In fact, as Jim looked around, he realized that everyone on the bridge had been through a lot. They'd all been knocked out at some point; gotten into a fight; been possessed; been drugged. 

And yet, here they were. Happy and on their way to being drunk off of Chekov's rum. Scotty and Bones were, thankfully, both sober and far from the bridge. They could handle any problems that came up while the bridge crew were intoxicated. Not that there should be problems, since they were far out in space and only on a small trip to a shore leave on Regulus 6. So for now, they could relax. Have a drink. Breathe.

"Life is short, Mr. Chekov," Jim agreed.

He turned to Spock again, interested to find that his first officer was standing upright. 'Finally', Jim thought. Bending over that scanner all day and night had to be giving the poor guy back problems.

"Find anything, Mr. Spock?"

Spock shook his head, eyes looking a bit distant. He blinked, as if to clear his vision, and then brought a hand up to his eyebrows.

Jim was about to ask if he was alright, but the next second answered his question for him. Spock suddenly stumbled, and then pitched forward. 

His eyes roll back into his head as he fell, sending a spike of nausea through Jim's intoxicated system. His first officer was falling loose-limbed, like he was a puppet whose strings had been suddenly cut. 

To make matters worse, he hit his head on the way down, right on the railing. The dinging sound echoed through the bridge. Or at least, it sounded that way to Jim; ringing in his ears long after his first had found his way to the floor.

Jim stared blankly at Spock's body, on its side and completely still. And suddenly he felt completely sober.

"Spock!" Jim called, vaulting up the steps. He dropped to his knees beside his friend and then awkwardly passed his glass off to a very worried-looking Sulu.

"Is he alright, keptin?" Chekov asked, sounding a lot less like a confident future commander and a lot more like a scared boy.

Jim carefully rolled Spock onto his back, supporting his head as he did so. He was definitely breathing, given the soft rise and fall of his chest, but his head wound was bleeding steadily.

"Spock?" Jim tried again, squeezing both of his shoulders. "Can you hear me?"

There was no response, which set alarms blaring in Jim's addled mind. Slowly, he turned to the others. Everyone was looking at him. Their drinks sat forgotten beside them, eyes wide and sparkling with a strange mix of alcohol and worry.

"Sulu, call sickbay," Jim murmured, ignoring the shaky quality of his voice. "Get McCoy here."

Sulu set to work immediately. But in Jim's mind, concern drowned out both Sulu's voice and whatever Bones' response was. He was stuck staring down at Spock, his stomach churning. What had happened? Why had Spock suddenly collapsed? Was it something he missed? Maybe he shouldn't have drunk anything. Maybe then he would have seen...

"Captain?" Uhura said softly, calling Kirk out of his daze. "Mr. Spock is still bleeding."

Jim shook his head and found green blood all over his left hand. He blinked dazedly at it for a moment, and then pulled his shirt off. Balling it in his fists, he silently apologized to Spock. He didn't know what he was sorry for, but he figured he had to be sorry for something. 

He was the captain. His crew was his responsibility, and whatever had happened was, in the end, his fault.

"Dr. McCoy is on his way, sir," Sulu said steadily, knowing exactly what Kirk needed to hear.

Jim nodded, pressing his shirt against Spock's forehead as he held the Vulcan's head still with the other hand. 

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu." 

Spock's prolonged unconsciousness was starting to worry Jim. But he didn't have much time to contemplate it on his own. Soon enough, the door was sliding open and a grumbling doctor was kneeling beside him, medical kit in hand.

"Can't go one day without an incident," Bones muttered. 

He obviously was angry at the situation, not Spock. But his stiff movements made one wonder. He practically shoved Kirk out of the way as he took over holding the shirt over the wound. 

"What happened?" He asked simply, pulling some genuine medical gauze and tape out of his bag.

"I-I don't know. He just collapsed," said Jim.

Uhura took a step forward.

"He seemed a bit lightheaded for a moment before he fell," she added.

Bones bit his bottom lip as he worked. The wound was covered with gauze now, at least, which was fastened securely to Spock's head. 

But the first officer was still asleep.

"Jim, I want him in sickbay. It might not be serious, but I wanna check him out anyway."

"I'll carry him," Jim stated.

Nobody dared argue with him. Maybe it was the way he said it, stern and commanding. Or maybe none of them wanted to run all the way to sickbay to get a gurney. 

Regardless, Jim gently set one hand beneath Spock's back, letting his head fall against his chest as he maneuvered Spock into a seated position, and one hand under his knees. Slowly, Jim stood. Spock, cradled in his arms, looked smaller than he ever had before.

It sent a silent chill through the entire bridge crew. 

"You guys having a party in here?" Bones asked as they made their way to the elevator. He tried to sound casual; make pleasant conversation. But his worried voice was tight and forced.

"We thought today would be a bit dull without it," Jim said bitterly. He adjusted his grip on his first officer's body and tried to ignore the way Spock's head lolled against his chest as he did so. 

"Did Spock drink anything?"

Jim smirked to himself. It didn't last long, but it made just a bit of the tension in his chest loosen.

"No, he didn't want to 'mar his judgment'."

"Course not," smiled Bones.

The elevator stopped on the medical floor. The air down here always tasted sterile. Jim usually despised it; it reminded him of uncomfortable physicals and random hypos pushed into his arm against his will. But today, it was a welcome sight. Spock needed help and they were finally at the right place to get it to him.

"Set him here," said Bones as they walked into the sickbay. 

As Bones set up the proper monitors, Jim deposited Spock onto the closest bio bed. He was as gentle as he could be, shifted his hand up to cradle Spock's head as his body was lowered. Jim's finger traced Spock's temple, a small attempt to send calming thoughts to his first officer.

Now that they were here, Jim let himself lose his commanding facade. Bones was in charge here in sickbay; not him. He was just a worried friend. He had no special tricks or skills that would help here. 

"Bones, he mentioned strange readings on the scanner," Jim thought suddenly. His eyes widened at the thought, even though Bones didn't seem disturbed. "Could something alien have caused this?"

"I don't know, Jim," Bones said casually. He was looking at Spock's readings with a careful eye, keeping his expression muted so as not to worry Kirk.

"I knew I should have listened to him," Jim worried. His feet started pacing the floor; back and forth, back and forth. His hands joined in, fingers rubbing together incessantly.

"We don't know what caused this, Jim."

"I know; that's what worries me!"

Jim paused where he was, mouth agape and eyes boring into Bones'. He softened a moment later, sitting in the chair beside Spock's bed.

"Sorry, Bones. I don't know what's come over me."

Jim folded his hands together. But when he next looked up, Bones was still giving him that barely-there smile that could have meant anything.

"You drank a bit too much and then your first officer collapsed. It seems like you're having a totally normal reaction, Jim."

Jim sighed, almost disappointed in himself. Maybe he was right. Maybe Chekov really could take a drink better than he could. Jim turned back to Spock, letting his shoulder droop.

"Is he going to be okay?" Jim asked in a timid voice.

Bones all but smiled in reply.

"Jim, he's showing all signs of hypoglycemia."

Jim nodded seriously. Then he turned sharply up to Bones.

"Wait..."

"Low blood sugar. His stomach is practically empty and his blood pressure finally dropped too low because of it. He should wake up in a minute or two."

Jim was disbelieving. But sure enough, Spock's eyebrows furrowed just a moment later. He shifted with only a slight wince as his head wound was jostled.

"You're not going anywhere just yet," Bones ordered.

Spock frowned, cracking his eyes open just enough to give an arguing glare up to the good doctor. Whatever he read in Bones' eyes, it kept him quiet. He simply sighed through his nose before turning up to the ceiling.

Bones continued, "I want at least five minutes rest. And then I'm gonna bring you a protein bar. You're not being discharged until you get some food into yourself."

"As always, I question your bedside manner, doctor," said Spock, deadpan and humorous as ever.

Jim moved his seat closer with a smile on his face.

"How are you feeling, Spock?"

"Quite alright, captain. Although I seem to have sustained a head injury."

"You went down pretty hard," explained Jim. "But like Bones' said, you're staying here until you've got some food in you and have some extra testing done."

Jim's concern leached into his voice. It was obvious that something was deeply troubling him, even if he appeared to be smiling. Spock's eyebrows twitched again. But instantly he regretted the action, as it made his head ache; an effect that did not go unnoticed by Bones.

"Alright, it's time we get that head wound looked at. Jim, can you go get Spock something to eat? It's gonna take a lot of veggies to get him back to full strength. Are you sure you won't try a burger, just this once?" Bones joked.

Spock smirked. "Quite sure, doctor."

Bones mocked a shake of the head and a frown. "He's quite sure, Jim. Just bring all of the fruit that we have."

"Got it, Bones." 

Jim jumped to his feet, but paused at the door. He gave Spock one last withering look, lips quirking down and eyes melting. Bones somehow found his gaze and gave him a confident smile that set him at ease.

Jim left the room before he had time to worry any more.

"Doctor?" Spock asked, pushing himself to a seated position that Bones started countering instantly. 

"Spock, lay down."

Spock didn't respond, but stopped fighting to sit up. 

"Doctor, why did the captain seem so disturbed?"

A flash of an emotion Spock didn't know how to name struck Bones' face. But he tamped it down quickly and gave him a soft smile.

"His first officer suddenly collapsed without warning, pale as milk with a bleeding head wound. Wouldn't you be a little shaken up by that, Spock?"

Spock's eyes widened slightly.

"Vulcans do not typically get 'shaken up' by anything. But I understand why it would be...upsetting."

Bones rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath, "Do I have to spell it out for them, or what?"

"Did you say something, doctor?" asked Spock.

"What? Oh, no; just medical jargon."

. . . . . . .

"Ze party is back in session now zat Commander Spock is back on ze bridge!" Chekov announced proudly that evening. 

The entire bridge was happy to have Spock back so soon, typing calculations into the computer in front of him. After his collapse, everyone had gone practically silent. The drinks had been forgotten or ignored. Hardly anyone even dared to smile.

But now, the atmosphere was almost where it had been earlier. They still had days before they reached Regulus 6. And now, a wary doctor had joined them in their party, bringing with him a few bottles of his own 'medicine'.

"Mr. Spock," Chekov called. "Do you vant some rum? It is ze last glass, but you deserve it after having to put up with medical tests all day."

"Hey," Bones argued, without any venom. 

Chekov shrugged with a smile.

"Sorry, doctor. It iz a fact zat medical exams are horrible."

Bones cocked his head to the side, and then tilted his drink toward Chekov.

"I'll drink to that," he acquiesced.

"No thank you, Mr. Chekov," Spock answered to the forgotten question. "Vulcans do not attain the same benefits as humans where alcohol is concerned."

Chekov looked distraught.

"I vill drink a glass for you, Mr. Spock. And one for all of Vulcan!"

Bones grabbed the glass out of the boy's hand.

"Let's let that one rest for an hour and the maybe we'll come back to it."

Jim shook his head with a smile. He pushed himself out of his seat and went over to Spock, suddenly pulling out a sandwich.

"You do have to eat something, though, Spock. Captain's orders."

Spock looked at the sandwich like he was confused by its existence.

"I have already eaten, Captain. Earlier, you brought me salad, which I finished-"

"Mr. Spock...that is an order," Jim said with shining eyes and a cocky smile.

"Yes, captain."

Jim sighed in relief as Spock tore the wrappings of the sandwich. 

"And Mr. Spock...please don't forget to eat again."

Spock met Jim's eyes and knew that there was something deeper than a captain's annoyance there. 

"I will not make a habit of it, captain."

And with that, the crew turned to each other, shared knowing smiles, and drank until their shifts were over.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a comment below if you have any thoughts on this or my other star trek stories! I'm pretty new to the fandom and I'd love to know how I'm doing.


End file.
